Stars
by Sam.J.Eller
Summary: Sam and Dean have a much needed heart-to-heart. Tag to 11x11 Into the Mystic. Sad/Hurting/Sam and Caring/Big Brother/Dean. A whole lot of brotherly feels. One-shot.


Note: I know, a week late, sorry babes. I just watched 11.11, I'm a week behind on my episode - so keep that in mind when you leave comments, no spoilers please ;) Hope some of you appreciate this fic!

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Sam thought he would be able to sleep.

Truly he did.

And to his credit, he was asleep for nearly three whole hours before he awoke screaming.

Sam sat up, panting, his body trembling as his eyes scanned the room.

"He's not here."

The younger man startled at the words and looked to his doorway where his brother stood.

Dean winced, not intending to further distress the kid, just wanting to reassure him.

"I know." Sam declared, his voice raspy and his nod shaky as he brought his knees up and rested his chin on them.

Dean's heart clenched at the childish position, one a much younger boy used to adopt when he was frightened.

"Sorry for waking you." Sam apologized, staring up at his older brother.

Dean found himself looking into the hazel eyes, and he had to avert his gaze, there was far too much pain hidden beneath the sincerity; and for the hundredth time in the past few days, Dean wished he had done a lot more damage to the devil, because that bastard had clearly terrorized his kid…again.

"You didn't." Dean says, the honesty slipping out before he could think better of it.

Sam's eyebrows rose and his gazed scanned over the older man, his concern for him written blatantly upon his face.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, my head is still pounding, that's all."

Sam immediately slid his legs off the side of the bed and made to stand.

"Where you going?" Dean inquired, venturing further into the room.

"To get you some Advil."

"Dude, get back in bed, I don't need any. I'm fine." Dean dismissed.

"You're not fine. Your head hurts. And I'm getting you Advil; I'd get you something more effective but that's not a good idea with head wounds."

Dean rolled his eyes at his little brother's medical-lecture. Didn't he recall exactly who it was that taught him all that?

The taller man snagged his brother's sleeve as he shuffled past him.

Dean released a long-suffering sigh, but obediently followed his brother out into the hall. Sam didn't let go of the older man's sleeve until they had reached the kitchen, when he gently pushed his brother onto a stool.

Dean huffed at all the manhandling but didn't bother arguing; he knew better than to fight Sam when he was in mother-hen mode.

Sam filled a glass of water and set it in front of his brother, before rummaging through the first-aid kit that remained open on the table from when he had patched Dean up earlier in the night.

"Here, take these." He ordered softly, placing the pills into Dean's open palm.

The older hunter grunted in complaint, but swallowed the meds nonetheless.

Sam dropped heavily into the stool across the table, running his hands through his hair with a sigh.

Dean eyed the younger man, not liking the weight that seemed to be resting on his shoulders and the defeated expression he was sporting.

"So, still having nightmares?" Dean stated, in an awkwardly attempt to prompt a conversation.

Sam sighed tiredly before nodding.

"Thought you said that you'd be able to sleep tonight."

"I thought I would…I mean I felt better, the hunt did really help. I…I just…I don't know. My dreams always seem to turn against me, I guess." He explained lamely.

"You want to talk about them?" Dean questioned, gruff, but sincere.

Sam shook his head. He had no intention of expressing the details of his nightmares. He wouldn't lay that crap on his older brother. Dean had done enough for Sam, he'd done everything; even when he'd received nothing in return. No, the last thing Sam was going to do was allow his brother to carry the cage around with him; Sam knew what that was like, and he wouldn't wish it on anyone, least of all Dean.

"Nah, it's alright."

Dean frowned at the response, but didn't push any further.

The two sat in silence, Sam staring down at the tabletop and Dean staring at Sam.

He didn't like how exhausted his little brother looked, but he knew there was no way to force the kid to get some rest, he didn't know how to fix it. And Dean _hated_ not knowing how to fix things for his little brother.

But just because he didn't know how, didn't mean he wasn't going to try.

"C'mon, let's go for a drive." He said, standing up.

Sam looked up, eyebrows raised.

"What? It's like two in the morning."

"You got something better to do?" Dean questioned knowingly.

"I could find us another case while you get some sleep." Sam suggested, not even pretending that he had any intentions of going back to bed.

"And what makes you think I can sleep?"

Dean regretted the words as they instantly elicited Sam's concern.

"C'mon." He said again, leaving the room before his little brother could start interrogating him about his inability to get any rest.

As Sam had done since he was an ankle-biter crawling around on his hands and knees, he followed after his big brother.

Dean led Sam out to the Impala, not failing to notice how the kid tensed upon exiting the safe haven. His long body seemed to relax again once he slid into the passenger's seat. Dean dropped down behind the wheel, dutifully ignoring his little brother's questioning looks as he started his baby up and cruised down the road.

They drove in comfortable silence, Sam still curious about their destination, but Dean could tell by his brother's ease, that the younger man trusted him implicitly.

Dean felt his heart fill as he recalled a few days back when Sam had informed him what he had said to Lucifer. His brother had told the devil that Dean was coming to save him. Sam believed in Dean so much that he told the fucking devil that Dean was going to kick his ass.

Damn, if that didn't make the eldest Winchester feel all kinds of stupid-girlie emotions.

Having someone place that kind of trust in you; that kind of _faith_ , it meant everything.

Sam stared out the window, glancing back at Dean every now and then, hoping to get some hints of where they were headed, but knowing better than to pry.

Sam was slightly taken aback but content with the pleased look his older brother was currently sporting. He didn't know if it was because of where they were driving, or something else that was going on in Dean's head, but either way it was always nice to see the worry lines on Dean's forehead disappear, even just for a few moments.

"Starbucks? Seriously? Dude, we have coffee at the bunker." Sam commented as they pulled into the drive-thru.

"Shut up, Sam. Or I'll order you some man coffee instead of that froo-froo shit you like."

Sam rolled his eyes, but closed his mouth, snickering as he listened to Dean bickering with the barista over the absurdity of the cup sizes.

"How the hell is tall equivalent to small? That's stupid. And all the other sizes are stupid dumb-ass words. Why does everything have to be so damn complicated?" He grumbled as he passed Sam his latte and took his own cup of black coffee.

"So, what now?" Sam inquired, wrapping his hands around the cup, taking a sip, and savouring the sweet taste.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Dean chuckled.

They drove another few minutes or so, before pulling off the road into an empty field.

Sam sent his brother an inquisitive look as he parked the car.

Before the younger man could make an inquiry, the older slid out of the car and climbed up onto the hood, leaning back against the windshield, sipping at his coffee.

Sam followed, sitting onto the hood next to him. He looked behind him, where Dean lay reclined, and noticed his brother's eyes were trained on the stars.

It was only than that the youngest Winchester realized why they were out there.

Star-gazing was an activity in which the brothers had often partaken. It seemed as though it had been awhile since they'd enjoyed the night sky. Things had changed once the found a home-base, they hadn't spent quite as many nights on the road. But even as kids, going out and finding a place to look up at the stars was something they had often done to relax, or simply escape the dodgy motel of the week.

They sat in silence, gazing up at the night sky, like they had so many times before. Not a word was spoken between them, until both their cups were empty.

Only then did Sam say, in a quiet voice, "Do you know why I stopped looking for you?"

It took Dean a moment, but only a short one, before he realized what his brother was speaking of.

"Sam, we talked about this. You don't have to—

"I know you don't need it hear it. But I need to say it." Sam pleaded, his gaze remaining upwards.

"Okay." Dean agreed softly, not understanding the need to bring the topic up again, but seeing that it was clearly important to his little brother.

"When you were gone…and I was alone, again. I wanted to find you, Dean. I swear to God, I couldn't even think of anything but finding you. I wanted to tear the world apart…but I was scared."

Dean perked up at the whispered confession. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it hadn't been that. He propped himself up on his elbows to get a clearer view of his little brother's face.

"Scared of what?" Dean prompted gently, as Sam seemed to be struggling to find his words.

The younger man glanced over at his brother for just a second, but a second was more than long enough for Dean to catch sight of the agony and shame shining through the hazel orbs. Dean's breath caught in his throat, Sam's obvious despair was searing into Dean's soul as though it were his own.

"Dean, without you…I…I'm messed up, man. Anytime time I have been in this life without you, anytime I have fought to get you back, I've become someone else. Like I did with the trickster, and when you went to hell."

Dean kicked himself for forgetting about the trickster. It had taken weeks of Sam being clingy and having panic attacks every time Dean was out of his sight, for the older man to finally coax the truth out of his kid brother. The whole thing seemed like it hadn't even happened for him, but he knew for Sam it was nothing less than traumatic. It was one of the many scars his soul carried, just as Cold Oak and Stull Cemetery were for Dean.

"Both those times I was obsessed with getting you back, and I became someone else, some _thing_ else in the process. God, Dean, I crossed so many lines trying to get you out of hell. And I guess, I don't know, I guess I was scared of going too far, again. I was afraid of becoming a monster in the hunt to get you back…like I did last time."

Dean had remained silent, but finally felt the need to interject.

"You were never a monster, Sam. You were just…lost." He finished honestly.

Sam sent his brother a quick look, unable to miss the sincerity in the gruff tone. He was so relieved to hear what the older Winchester thought to be true. Upon learning that Dean didn't think he was ever a monster, Sam could almost feel a piece of his heart fall back into place, a piece he hadn't known he was missing until its return.

"I ran, I ran to avoid getting lost, again. I was scared of becoming someone who would disappoint you. I was scared of letting you down, again. Which is stupid, because I just ended up letting you down even more than ever before."

The confession felt like a knife through Dean's chest, and the tears that were now streaming freely down his little brother's face made that knife feel as though it were being twisted while still inside him.

Here was this damn kid, so desperate not to disappoint his big brother. Choosing to get out while he still could, while he was still the man he was raised to be, only to find out that he _still_ managed to let his family down.

Sam made the impossible decision to go live the apple-pie life – the same thing he had wanted Dean to do at one point—and instead of being proud of him, Dean ripped into him for it.

On top of all that, Sam was _still_ beating himself up for it, years after Dean had forgiven him, forgiven him for something he didn't even need forgiveness for.

Sam took his brother's silence for rejection, and began to ramble, his voice cracking with distress and insecurity.

"Dean, I swear to you, if I had known you were in Purgatory, if I had known you were suffering like that, I would have kept searching. I would have down _anything_ to get you out!" Sam pleaded.

Dean made to interrupt, but Sam wasn't finished.

"I thought maybe you were in heaven. I never thought – I mean I didn't even know that was possible—but I should have found out. I should have looked. I should have turned over every fucking stone!"

Sam was shaking now, tears streaming, and voice cracking.

"And it wasn't like I didn't miss you. Fuck, Dean, I misse you so much. It was like I couldn't breathe. And even when I was with Amelia, just because there was some good days, didn't mean that I was good. Because I wasn't. Every holiday, ever damn anniversary of some family event, all the time, I was so screwed up. But I know that doesn't mean anything, I should have been looking for you. I'm sorry Dean, I'm just so fucking sorry."

Dean couldn't take one more second of watching his kid brother fall to pieces, so he reached out and tugged him into his arms.

Sam's long body folded pliantly into Dean's grasp, his arms wrapped around the older man and his bony fingers formed a white-knuckled grip on his brother's shirt. Sam melted against his older brother, pressing his face into his collar-bone as he continued a mantra of apologies.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Sshhh." Dean hushed his brother, rubbing up and down his back with one hand and smoothing the kid's long hair with the other.

He waited for the apologies to stop, before ducking his head down and speaking directly into Sam's ear.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, Sammy. Nothing, okay? You hearing me?" Dean insisted, his voice cracking thanks to the lump that had taken up residence inside of it.

Sam muttered something but Dean couldn't hear it.

"What?" He questioned softly, relieved that Sam's shaking had eased and his breath was evening out.

"That's not what you said before."

And just like that, the knife was back in Dean's chest.

Dean pulled Sam back a little, slid the hair off the kid's face, and thumbed away the lingering tears, as he waited for the watery hazel eyes to meet his.

"I was angry. I was angry because the entire time I was in Purgatory I got through by thinking about you being up here searching for me."

Sam flinched at the words as though they had been a physical strike and attempted to pull back, but Dean wouldn't allow it.

Dean slid his hand to the back of Sam's neck and got a firm grip, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep Sam from moving away.

"I'm not trying to hurt you, I'm just trying to tell you why I was angry. Just hear me out, okay?"

Sam's expression was still the epitome of misery, but he sniffed and nodded all the same.

"So when I got back and saw you living your life while I had been fighting to keep mine, it hurt me, Sam."

Dean cleared his throat and wiped away more of the tears that were tracking down his brother's face as Sam released a strangled sob.

"But I should never have been angry with you."

Sam's eyebrows rose at that comment and he began to shake his head.

"No, Dean. You had every right to be angry. I just left you down there!" Sam choked out, his hands grasping at the front of Dean's shirt.

"You had no way of knowing where I was! And I _know_ that if you had known where I was, you would have kept looking, I know that, Sam." Dean assured, seeing so clearly now what he had questioned years ago.

The truth was, most of Dean's anger at his little brother for not looking for him, revolved around his own insecurities.

Dean had spent a great deal of his life struggling with the belief that he needed his family more than they needed him. It had been a whisper in the back of his mind when he was a teenager, and had moved to the forefront of his fears when Sam went off to Stanford and again when their father disappeared. It was an insecurity that reared its head from time to time, like when Dean had returned from hell to find his kid brother all buddy-buddy with a demon-bitch, and it struck again – harder than it ever had before—when he returned from Purgatory to find that Sam had been living a happy existence and getting along just fine without him.

It wasn't until that moment – when he was seated on the hood of the Impala with Sam falling apart in his arms – that Dean realized just how wrong he had been.

Sam may have been able to function without Dean, he may have even had a good life. But it was just like the one Dean had with Lisa. It was enough to survive, but not enough to live. Dean remembered his days with Lisa and Ben, he remembered the times where the three of them had seemed like a normal family, times when they had all laughed together; but he also remembered the ache in his chest that had never disappeared, not even in the happiest moments. Dean remembered the mornings he had to fight to get out of bed, the days it was all he could to keep from breaking down, let alone attempt to force a smile. Dean remembered what it was like to try to move on without Sammy, to try and keep breathing without the other part of his soul, it was like being only half-alive, just going through the motions to get through the day.

Sam had done the same thing with Amelia. He had found the only degree of solace that the world had to offer him, and he had grabbed a hold of it to keep him afloat, to keep him from drowning in the waves of grief and desperation. He had tried his hand at that apple-pie life that he had encouraged Dean to live all those years ago. Because without his big brother around, without his _family_ , that chance at a peaceful existence was all there was. That life, that white-picket-normal-life, wasn't so much of a choice as it was a necessity at the time.

On top of all that, when Sam had discovered that Dean had gone for that life, when he had his soul back and had realized the apple-pie existence his big brother had for a year, he was _happy_ for Dean, damn near proud that he had tried. Sam had been disappointed for Dean, that he hadn't been able to keep that life. The kid had never _once_ expressed any level of hurt or disapproval at the fact that, while he was being ripped apart in the cage by the damn devil, Dean had been working a nine-to-five job and going to fucking barbeques. Had Dean returned the favor? Had he expressed anything but anger at the fact that his kid brother had managed not to fall to pieces? Had he been proud of him for being able to find some resemblance of normal when his heart was shattered and his hope was smashed and his family was gone?

No.

Dean had been nothing but angry.

He had selfishly wallowed in his own insecurities.

Hurt by the fact that he thought Sam didn't need him, or didn't care enough about him to go looking. When in truth, Sam cared too much. He cared so much that he knew he couldn't handle searching and not finding. He knew it would break him. So Sam had done all he could, and he had grabbed onto the only lifeline he could find.

And Dean had done nothing but make the kid feel like shit for it.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

The older Winchester halted his inner-tirade and focussed back in on the kid in front of him. He brushed away Sam's unruly locks, and looked into those pleading hazel eyes, those eyes that were so blatantly desperate for a big brother's approval. Dean's heart filled with so much love for his kid, that it almost over-whelmed him.

"Listen to me, Sammy." He ordered, voice serious but soft.

Sam obeyed, biting his lip to put an end to the apologies that were fighting to come out. He stared at his big brother, terrified of what he was going to be told. Sam lived under the illusion that he had grown into his own man, that he had changed and matured so much from the little kid he had once been, but it was moments like this that taught him how little had actually altered over the years. Sam had always sought out his brother's approval. At some point he had desired John's as well, but never to the extent where it controlled his actions or decisions.

Dean was different.

Dean was the person Sam had strived to the impress. Originally, it was the promise of Dean's beaming pride that had his little brother working so hard to get good grades in school; all for that moment when he would bring him his straight-A report card and watch as Dean – just a child himself – grinned and proudly stuck the prize on the fridge, or tacked it to the wall of whatever place they were residing in. Dean had been the only reason that Sam ever wanted to excel at hunting, he didn't much care for his father's profession (or rather, obsession), but he did love seeing the gleam in his older brother's eyes when he would make the shot, or rattle off a string of facts about the targeted creature. Nothing had changed, Sam still craved his brother's approval, pride, and acceptance with every fiber of his being.

Dean had always been the one to look after Sam, he had been the one and only person Sam could ever truly count on.

Sam had always had a deep desire for Dean's approval, and it was for that reason that his disapproval hurt the younger man down to the very core.

It was for that reason that Sam considered his greatest sins to be the times when he lets his brother down.

Because Dean had _never_ let Sam down, and yet Sam had failed his hero more times than even the devil could calculate.

Sam felt as though he couldn't breathe.

His whole world centered on his big brother and the words he was soon to speak.

Sam wasn't sure he could handle Dean's rejection, but he also knew he didn't deserve his brother's forgiveness—though that didn't keep him from needing it, because oh god, did he need it; he needed it more than oxygen.

"I'm only going to say this once, so pay attention." Dean lied, because in reality he knew that he would repeat it as many times as it took to get it through his brother's thick skull.

Sam nodded, biting down harder on his bottom lip to keep it from trembling as he maintained focus on Dean.

"You have _nothing_ to be sorry for."

Sam's eyes expanded at that, and his head shook back in forth in silent protest.

"Listen!" Dean demanded with a stern look, successfully stilling his brother.

"You did what you thought you had to. You did what you thought would get you through at the time. And that's all I would ever ask of you. You stayed alive, and you stayed _you_ , and that is more than enough."

Dean paused, looking into Sam's glistening eyes and waiting for his brother's response, and was not the least bit shocked when Sam shook his head from side to side. Dean released a frustrated huff before placing his hands firmly on either side of Sam's face, forcing him to stop the movement.

"Listen, man. I wasn't mad that you didn't look for me because I expected you to save me."

Sam's miserable expression morphed into one of confusion.

"I didn't expect you to be able to find all the answers and rescue my ass. "

Dean watched as his brother absorbed the news.

"Then why…" He struggled to finish the inquiry, not wanting to force his brother to voice the reason or his anger, too afraid of what it would be.

"I was so angry because I thought that you didn't need me anymore, that you didn't want me around."

If Dean hadn't already known his assumptions were faulty, the look on his little brother's face would have proved as much.

Sam was mortified.

"How could you think that? I mean, I know how you could have thought that…but, fuck, Dean, it was nothing like that. There wasn't a day that went by where I didn't miss you. Not a day where I didn't wish you were back. Not a _day_ where I didn't feel like I was missing half of myself. I have _never_ not wanted you around. Not anytime I ran away as a kid, or when I went to Stanford, or when you were in Hell or Purgatory. There is not one time, not one _moment_ **ever** , where I haven't wanted or needed my big brother in my life."

Dean quickly brushed away the moisture gathering in his eyes, and then did the same to the tears trailing down Sam's cheeks.

"I know that Sammy. I know that now, and I think I knew it before…I was just…I was being stupid is all. Besides, the last couple of years have made it pretty obvious that you want me around." Dean pointed out with a small smile, knowing how much his little brother had fought and sacrificed to save him from the mark and being a demon.

Sam looked skeptical, his brother sounded earnest, but he needed to be certain that Dean understood.

"Even when I wasn't hunting, even when I was just living the simple life with Amelia… there were still times I thought I wouldn't be able to do it without you anymore." Sam confessed quietly.

"Do what without me?" Dean questioned, an uneasy feeling growing in his gut.

"Live." Sam rasped.

Dean's breath caught in is throat, and his heart stopped in his chest.

The mere thought of his little brother taking his own life, crippled Dean. Not that it hadn't been a thought that had crossed his own mind those times he had been on the planet without his little brother, but he _never_ wanted it to be a thought that entered Sam's big brain.

"You didn't—

"Well obviously not, I'm here aren't I?" Sam replied, a small smile pulling at his lips.

"But you didn't ever..." Dean faded off, he could barely _think_ it, there was no way in hell he'd be able to say it.

"Try?" Sam filled in the blanks.

Dean nodded, knowing he wouldn't be able to physically handle one of Sam's possible responses.

"No, Dean. I know you would never want that for me. I would never, I could never…but if I hadn't gotten out, if I had spent weeks, months, or _years_ searching for you and coming up with _nothing_ , I think… I think I could have." Sam nearly whispered, his voice laced with shame.

Dean sucked in the first breath in what felt like hours, he heart finally starting to beat again. The relief that Sam hadn't tried to end the one only thing in the universe that Dean had ever considered to be sacred, was nearly palpable.

Sam felt a pang of regret for telling his brother about the possibility that played out in the depths of his own thoughts on his darkest days, but he needed the older man to truly understand how lost his little brother was without him. Sam wasn't proud of it, shame was actually what he felt most. Shame for even thinking of doing something that would well and truly shatter Dean.

Sam was half-expecting a lecture from his older brother, a lecture about never giving up no matter what, but instead he felt Dean's forehead press against his own, and felt his brother's warm breath on his face as Dean spoke.

"I'm proud of you, Sammy."

Sam nearly choked on his own tongue, his fingers clenching harder in the front of Dean's shirt as he closed his eyes, feeling tears leaking out the corners.

"You did what you had to do to survive, and I know it was hard. But you did the right thing, Sam, okay? You did the right thing! You became your own stone number one, and you made it through. And I'm so fucking proud."

Despite Sam's efforts to contain it, a sob escaped, and another one followed, his body shaking with relief and more emotions than he had time to process. He felt one of Dean's palms slide around to his neck and through his hair, clenching around the back of his neck and giving it a comforting squeeze.

That was all the encouragement Sam needed, before throwing his arms around his brother and desperately pulling him closer. It took Dean less than a second to return the embrace, one hand in Sam's hair and the other around his upper back.

Neither of them knew how long they remained in that embrace, but neither of them much cared, they both needed the comfort and reassurance that the other could offer.

Sam did not pull away from his brother, but he brought his head up from where it had been pressed against Dean's collarbone and rested it on his shoulder instead, so that he could be heard when he spoke.

"I need you to say it…if you do, that is, I need you to say it."

"Say what, Sammy?" Dean questioned his voice gentle but confused as he continued to card his fingers through the younger man's hair.

"That you forgive me." Sam all but whispered.

Dean made to pull away, but Sam gripped tighter onto the back of his shirt, not allowing Dean to separate them. Sam knew he wasn't emotionally stable enough to look into his brother's eyes for this conversation, and he knew how Dean always demanded eye contact when he wanted to make a point.

Dean huffed in slight irritation, but went back to rubbing a hand up and down Sam's back as he dragged his fingers through the long brown locks.

"We already talked about this, dude. I told you that you don't need to be forgiven, you didn't do anything wrong—

"I know, but _I_ think I need it, and I need it from you. So, please just say it. I need to hear you say it." Sam insisted, the huskiness of his voice a testament to his level of emotion.

Dean thought it over. Not wanting to forgive Sam for something he shouldn't feel sorry about, but also knowing his little brother and how Sam had carried this with him and how he would continue to beat himself up over it unless he heard what he needed to hear.

Dean sighed, and pulled Sam impossibly further into his chest.

"I forgive you, Sam."

And just like that the long body sank against Dean and a long sigh fell from Sam's lips.

"Thank you, Dean." The younger man croaked, pressing his face into Dean's shoulder as he felt the relief washing over him.

Sam took another minute to compose himself, before slowly releasing Dean from his grip. His older brother squeezed the back of his neck once more before allowing Sam to pull away. The two Winchester expertly avoided making eye contact as they shifted slightly apart and returned their gaze upwards– just now noticing that the stars were fading and the bright colours of the morning were beginning to paint the sky.

"And just so we never have to have another chic-flick session like that one, I want you to know that I officially forgive you for everything you've done and everything you will ever do." Dean declared, only half-joking as he attempted to lighten the mood.

Sam gave a wet chuckle, leaning back against the windshield with his eyes on the horizon.

"Everything?" He questioned with a cocky grin, going along with the joke.

"Everything." Dean confirmed, leaving back next to his brother.

"What if I forget the pie again?"

"Even then." Dean grumbled.

"What if I make a mess of your room?"

"That would be a bad idea, but yes, Sam, consider it forgiven."

Sam smirked, feeling an over-whelming sense of love for his big brother. The big brother that never failed to forgive Sam of any and all wrong-doings. The big brother who wanted for Sam to be free of the memories of the cage. The big brother who wanted Sam to hope for a future that included retirement at a fancy-shmancy old people home. The big brother that just endured one of the biggest chic-flick moments of all time, just because Sam needed it.

Sam knew he wasn't the only one struggling, he could see the weariness in his brother's eyes. He knew there was a reason his brother had been vulnerable and a reason he wasn't sleeping. There was something going on with Dean, and Sam was going to figure it out at some point, and then he would do whatever possible to fix it. Like Dean did for Sam more times that he could count.

Sam allowed his body to relax, soaking in the sight of the rising sun and appreciating the peaceful moment.

He tried to contain his glee as a thought entered his mind.

"You remember that show _Pimp my Ride_?"

He watched as his brother absent-mindedly nodded his head, not tearing his attention from the sky.

Sam tried to contain his laughter as he continued.

"What if I got the Impala on that show?"

Sam giggled as his brother sent him a dark glare.

"Sam." Dean warned, but his little brother ignored him.

"What if I let the paint her hot pink, with purple lightning bolts going down the side and leopard-print seat covers." Sam could hardly contain his laughter as he pictured it.

"Sam." Dean growled.

"And got them to put gold rims on the tires, and hang up some of those – those fuzzy dice." Sam managed to get out through his fit of laughter.

Inwardly Dean was enjoying his brother's giddiness, but outwardly he scowled at the younger man.

"Would you still forgive me?" Sam questioned, once he could breathe again.

Dean glared at the younger man, before releasing an exasperated sigh and turning his eyes back to the sky.

"Yes, Sam. I would still forgive you. Tough, I'd probably have to shave all your hair off as penance."

Sam barked out another laugh at the tightness of his brother's voice and his viciously clenching jaw, the older man not at all appreciating the thought of such an egregious act ever being executed.

Damn, Sam loved his big brother.

Dean glanced over, relieved to see his little brother smiling as he stared into the sky.

He couldn't help but do the same, Sam's dimply grin had always been contagious.

Dean turned his attention to the horizon, he wasn't much for scenery, but the sunrise was incredibly captivating. It was beautiful and peaceful and Dean felt a sense of calm come over him. He felt a glimmer of hope rising through him, he didn't know why, but he held onto it.

The truth was, both the brother's knew, whatever shit-situation came next, they would handle it, and they would handle it together.

Anything and everything that happened in the future, they would deal with together, because they had both figured out that separation wasn't any good when it came to the two of them.

Sleep or nightmares.

Fight or flight.

Win or lose.

Do or die.

They would do it all together.

And there was hope in that.

There was peace, the only sort of peace the Winchesters would ever be granted.

But it was enough.

They were enough.

 **The End**

* * *

Note: Did you like it? I hope so! Thanks for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts if you have a moment! - Sam


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